


It's In The Cards

by Darkrivertempest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Humor, Drug Use, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Sexual Content, Tarot, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrivertempest/pseuds/Darkrivertempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fed up with longing for Harry from afar—and up close—Luna devises a way to help him see the light... along with disguised assistance from a mutual friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's In The Cards

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dragyn_42](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Dragyn_42).



> Written for Dragyn_42 for the 2011 HP_porninthesun community on LJ. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters and canon Potter Verse belong to JK Rowling and associates. I am in no way affiliated with Warner Brothers, JK Rowling, or Scholastic. I do not make any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
> 
> Many thanks to my betas: Sotia, IBE and Mari!

Luna Lovegood was a desperate witch.

And desperate witches did desperate things.

Hence, the reason she stood outside of Madame Fortuna’s shop in Muggle London. It was a plain, non-descript sort of place, really. Just a splintered door that had seen better days and one store-front window with a huge Eye of Horus painted on the glass. The symbol was wildly out of place, since the hieroglyph meant protection, royal power and good health. Luna rolled her eyes at the blatant mistake. What the proprietor probably wanted was a representation of Sefkhet, the goddess of wisdom and astrology. 

Normally, Luna would avoid fortune-tellers at all cost. They interfered with her own insight and intuition to a point that she actually felt normal—perish the thought. Professor Trelawney and a few others were an exception, as they weren’t true psychics or empaths of any sort, though they did provide viable prophecies once in a blue moon. And what a misnomer! Blue moon, indeed. It was only the third full moon in a season with four full moons, and not as rare as everyone thought it to be. So really, true prophecies were predicted with the same frequency as Lucius Malfoy donated money to a Muggle cause—as in never, unless he was being forced by the Ministry to make reparations for war crimes. 

But, she was getting off topic. Though the symbol on the window was incorrect, Luna could feel the magic pouring from the shop out onto the street. The Muggles probably had no idea that the place was nothing more than an empty warehouse, charmed and glamoured to look like a business. The owner—a gifted mage that Luna loved very dearly—had created the storefront expressly for entertainment purposes only. 

That wasn’t why Luna was there, however. After two years of watching someone she deeply cared for waste his life on one frivolous relationship after another, Luna had decided the situation called for drastic measures. 

She had tried several times to tell him of her affection, even going so far as to cast a charm on his dirty socks so that they spelled ‘I love you,’ before he washed them. He’d thought it had been the eighty-year-old laundress at the laundry mat and had politely explained to the confused woman he wasn’t interested in her that way. Another time, she had picked several species of wildflower, each one with a specific meaning, and given them to him. He had put them in a cracked vase and forgotten about them. They had died within three days. Luna had even come right out and told him that she loved him one night, while they sat in front of his telly watching Graham Norton and eating curry. After wiping the tears from his eyes from laughing so hard, he’d turned to her, nodded and said, “Love you too, Luna,” around a mouthful of Tikka Masala. 

Frustration did not begin to encompass what she felt after that. It was then that a plan had formed in her mind. If he would not take subtle hints, or blunt ones for that matter, then perhaps she would have to tell him in a way he understood. 

She had a plan, and its name was Harry Potter.

***

“Tell me again where we’re going?”

Luna tugged on Harry’s hand, practically dragging him down the pavement towards the shop she had visited earlier in the day. “I can’t wrap your birthday present.”

“Erm, what does that have to do with where you’re taking me?”

She looked over her shoulder at the confused wizard. “It’s easier if I take you to it.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “How big is it?”

 _Considering it concerns the rest of your life? Pretty big._ “You have no idea.”

“That’s what worries me.” He slowed his steps, gradually pulling her to a halt. “Really, what is it?”

“I can only show you, Harry. Do stop being a spoilsport and asking to know what your present is.” 

He had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry. I’m just surprised you’re taking me into Muggle London, is all.”

“Not all things can be found in the Wizarding world.” She squeezed his hand and smirked. “I could always give you an Erumpet horn instead.”

“No! That’s quite all right.” 

“So you’ll be quiet?”

Grinning, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not old enough to be a ‘ma’am’ yet. Maybe, _goddess divine_ or _genius extraordinaire_ would work.” 

With a slight bow, Harry intoned, “Oh yes, goddess divine, take me to my birthday present.”

“I do love the sound of that. At least you show proper deference.”

While they’d continued their banter, they had walked amongst the busy London crowds, Luna seeming to know where she was going without really looking. She avoided the crush of people until they arrived at an intersection that led down a dark alley. Turning to the right, she led Harry down the cobblestone path, straight to the business with the Eye of Horus on the glass. 

“Tarot card and psychic readings,” he said, reading the name of the services aloud. “Erm, not to seem ungrateful or anything, Luna, but why would you bring me here?”

“I’ve scheduled you an hour’s reading with Madame Fortuna.” She opened the door and a tinkling bell sounded. “You can have tarot or psychic—your choice.”

Harry stood just inside the entrance, looking all around at the strange items that filled the store. “Why? I mean, didn’t we get enough of this type of chicanery at school? It’s not like I really believe in this sort of thing.”

Luna quelled the despair that flooded her heart. “I know for a fact that Professor Trelawney was the one who made the prophecy about you and your parents, so you can’t say that it’s not real.” She rang the little service bell that sat upon a wooden podium. “And, if I may be blunt, Harry, lately you seem lost... and lonely. Maybe the information Madame Fortuna has for you will allow you to consider options you hadn’t before.” She hoped. 

Harry begrudgingly nodded with a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll see what she has to say.” He shifted closer to Luna when something moved in a clear jar upon one of the shelves. “This place reminds me of Snape’s classroom.”

“Oh, look! Dried Billywigs!” She picked up the jar filled with vivid-blue dead insects. 

“One touch to the stinger, and you’ll laugh so hard you’ll start to float,” intoned a woman from the back of the store. 

Luna returned the jar to the shelf. “Great Madame Fortuna. Please consider us your humble servants, seeking counsel.”

“What a load of rubbish,” Harry muttered under his breath.

Madame Fortuna glared at Harry, who grimaced when Luna kicked him in the shin. Trying not to appear disingenuous, he immediately covered that with a smile. “Madame... erm, whatever, how I seek your counsel,” he drawled.

The older woman looked like she had stepped right out of a gypsy fairytale. A maroon scarf with miniscule gold discs held her dark tresses away from her face and overlarge hoop earrings graced her ears. She wore a yellowed peasant-style shirt, the sleeves hanging off her shoulders, and a multi-tiered skirt in turquoise paisley with a striped petticoat underneath.

Thick eyeliner rimmed her eyes, making the glower she was giving Harry all the more fierce. He thought she could have given Snape a run for his money. 

“Heathen unbeliever!” the woman snapped. She glanced at Luna. “This will cost extra.”

Harry looked incredulous as Luna handed over several Muggle one hundred pound notes without arguing. “You realise she’s taking advantage of us, don’t you?” he hissed.

“It’s not taking advantage if she’s right, is it?” Luna smiled at Madame Fortuna. “Shall I wait out here?”

Harry grabbed her arm. “No, I want you to experience this with me.” 

Luna studied the object of her affection. This was something she had not counted on. “I’m sure it will be something torrid you’ll want to put in your diary, Harry. She may tell you things about your identity crisis, or your obsessive tendencies, or—” 

“I don’t have an identity crisis!” Harry blurted. He looked like a gaping fish. “And I have no clue what you mean about obsessive—”

“Remember during fifth year, you were convinced you were becoming Voldemort?”

Harry flushed beet-red. “You _know_ why I thought that.”

“And in sixth year,” she went on, ignoring the irritation pouring off of him in waves, “you were so preoccupied with Draco and the Half-Blood Prince?”

“Not now, Luna,” Harry growled. “Ixnay on the Acodray.”

“Apparently, he also thinks he speaks other languages,” Madame Fortuna mused, her arms crossed. “Loves living in denial, this one, doesn’t he?” she asked, directing her question to Luna, as if Harry weren’t in the room.

“Hey!” Harry was glaring at Madame Fortuna. “At least I don’t make a living by being a fraud.”

An intense light edged the older woman’s brown irises as she stared at him. “Fraud, he says,” she purred, coming to stand in front of Harry and caress his cheek. “Normally, I would throw the likes of you out of my shop.” Her caressing soon turned to a firm grip on his jaw. “But for the girl, I’ll make an exception.” She turned to Luna. “You keep your money, _Lux Minimus_. This one, I do for free.”

“Luna?” Harry asked, fear tingeing his voice. “Don’t leave me with her!”

Luna observed him with some sort of pity. “I’ll be right here.” She darted her gaze to the gypsy and nodded slightly. “Show him his path.”

Harry yelped when Madame Fortuna dug her nails into his left ear and pulled him through a beaded curtain, but his shouts were abruptly silenced with the slam of a door. Luna’s dainty hand snaked into the pocket of her blue sundress and caressed the wood of Harry’s wand, which she had surreptitiously relieved him of before they’d entered the shop. 

She hoped he’d forgive her, but if the end result was what she hoped, she wouldn’t have to worry at all.

***

“Who the bloody hell do you think—”

“ _Silencio_ ,” Madame Fortuna hissed with a wave of her hand.

Harry’s eyes widened at the use of wandless magic, and he knew he had made a grave error in judgement. He was currently bound to the chair she had placed him on, unable to move since the minute his arse touched the seat. That did not bode well. 

At first, he’d thought the old gypsy hag was harmless and, after realising what Luna had brought him here for, he’d thought to indulge his friend in her quest to ‘open his realm of consciousness.’ Now, the witch sitting across from him—for that was exactly what she was, as he could finally pick up on the magic surrounding her—caused his uneasiness to ratchet up several notches. It wasn’t true fear, per se, but wariness concerning what she thought he should know about his ‘path.’ The way she had hidden her true power until the last possible moment caused Harry to study her closely.

“I wish to speak with you, Harry Potter,” Fortuna said in a droll tone. “If I remove the spell, will you cooperate?”

He narrowed his eyes but nodded. The only way to get to the bottom of this was to play along.

She waved her hand dismissively, and his voice was given sound again. 

“Who are you, really?” he demanded. 

Fortuna just smirked and arched a pencilled-on brow. “Nobody you should concern yourself with.” She rose and moved about the smallish room, murmuring, “ _Incendio_ ,” to light three sticks that sat in what looked like cedarwood slats. Once they were all aflame, she returned to each one to blow out the fire, leaving them to fill the air with a drugging scent.

He tried not to inhale, but the more he resisted, the deeper the gulp of breath he would take when he could no longer refuse the need for oxygen. The moment the incense filtered into his body, his limbs became lax, his mind lethargic. Damn, but the stuff was potent and intoxicating. “What is this I’m breathing?” His words sounded slurred, even to himself.

Fortuna smiled knowingly. “A mixture of my own making.” Standing next to the first stick, she said, “This is Bay, burned to facilitate the psychic powers and to induce prophetic dream-visions.”

“Are you drugging me?”

She moved forward and grasped the tip of his chin, looking into his eyes. “No, Mister Potter. These herbs and fragrances are all natural, organic... pure.” Pointing to the second stick, she told him, “That is Bistort with a base of Frankincense. It aides me in divination.”

“Load of bollocks,” Harry mumbled and immediately giggled madly. “I said _bollocks_!”

“That you did.” She nodded to the last stick. “Ambergris. Burnt for dreams... and an aphrodisiac.” 

As if on cue, Harry palmed his groin. “Is that why I...” His tongue was so thick. “Gods, I want a shag!”

A wide smile broke out on Fortuna’s face, her white teeth glowing in the dim light. “This may not be so onerous a task after all.” She returned to the seat across from him and pulled a sapphire-coloured scarf off a podium to her left to reveal three decks of cards. “Before you, lies an uncertain path. Choose the deck in which that path becomes clear.”

Harry tried to focus on the decks; he really did. He lifted his hand to point to one of them, but it felt like he was trudging through mud. “One in the middle.”

Fortuna nodded. “Sacred Art—a wise choice.” She laid the deck on the wooden tabletop in-between them. Pressing on the topmost card, Fortuna spread them in a line, stopping only to choose one, holding it up for Harry to see. “This represents you: the Significator. It is the Seven of Cups.”

The picture upon the card showed a woman reclining amongst several pillows, a large gold goblet in each hand. There were five other such goblets scattered around the artwork, indicating seven. Harry had no clue why it was supposed to represent him. “What does it mean?”

“You have many options before you, and you should choose the one closest to your heart.”

It was as if her words summoned an image of Luna—dear, sweet, unassuming Luna. He loved the way her heart-shaped face would light up the moment he entered a room, how her clear blue eyes could cause his heart to race when she fixed them on him. He was brought out of his musings when the deck was thrust into his hands. 

“Shuffle until you feel compelled to stop.”

If only he could make his fingers work. He held the cards in his now sweaty hands, his groin aching abominably for relief. Trying to mimic what he had seen in old western shows on the telly, Harry divided the deck in two and flipped each stack through his fingers, letting the cards of one stack slide between the ones on the opposite stack. He did this four times before an overwhelming urge screamed in his mind— _Stop now!_

With trembling hands, he gave the shuffled deck back to Madame Fortuna. The images flowing at a rapid pace in his mind spoke of longing, lust, frustration and a deep-seeded ache that centred in his chest. The heady smoke induced him to let his mind wander, to see the possibilities that were his for the taking, if only he had the courage to do so.

“I will do a spread that I have devised. It will allow for greater clarity on your part.” She placed the Seven of Cups in the middle of the table and then withdrew the first card and showed him the figure. “This is your obstacle, or immediate challenge: The Hanged Man.”

A man—Harry supposed it had to be St Peter—hung upside down upon a cross, struggling on the card. Madame Fortuna laid it sideways upon the Seven of Cups. 

“You are at a crossroads—one with only two options: in or out, up or down, yes or no. You may find yourself very much wanting to do _something_ but having no idea what it is or how to do it.”

Merlin, Harry _did_ want to do something... he just didn’t think Madame Fortuna would be amiable to having him wank right in front of her. His erection grew impossibly harder, and he didn’t know if it was because of the incense, the words Fortuna was saying, or the fact that every time he closed his eyes, Luna was right there, smiling at him. 

“It’s a clear sign that you need to let go of any attempts to control your life, situations, people and things.” She gave him a smile worthy of Luna’s otherworldliness.

Harry’s head lolled to the side. “Have to stay in control. Can’t let the darkness consume me.”

Fortuna reached out and grasped Harry’s hand, stroking the knuckles with a withered finger. “Complete darkness cannot invade where there is still light, Harry Potter. You would do well to remember that.” She let go of his hand, returned to the deck and withdrew another card. “Your distant past: The Devil.”

The card was placed off to the right of the two cards in the middle, in an upright position. The image was horrific: a black background with a blood-red dying sun in the heavens, and a two-horned Lucifer leaning over a man and a woman, obviously whispering sinful things into each person’s ear. 

Swallowing audibly, Harry wiped the beads of sweat off his upper lip. “Voldemort?” he suggested, knowing the Dark Lord was very much in his past.

Tilting her head, Fortuna studied the card and glanced back to Harry. “Yes, but also... someone else.” She tapped her bottom lip with her index finger. “A woman, with long-flowing black hair.”

Harry’s heart nearly stopped beating. “Cho,” he breathed and his erection abated somewhat. He hadn’t thought of the girl in almost five years. She was definitely in his past, but how did she picture into what he needed to know about his future? 

“This is about bondage—metaphorical and internal. You loved this girl, yes?”

“Love is a strong word where we were concerned,” he replied, blinking slowly. Was the incense subsiding? “Infatuated, more like.”

“So much so, that you thought to replace her dead lover?” Madame Fortuna gave him a nasty smirk. “Trapped in a relationship that was superficial, bound to obey your lust?”

“I wanted her!” Harry cried and then slumped in his chair, no longer stuck to the seat. “I wanted her, and she wanted Cedric.” 

“Unrequited love tears at the soul, makes us all prisoners of the heart.” She reached over and poked him in the chest. “What did you learn from it?”

Tears gathered at the fringes of his sooty lashes. “I couldn’t be what she wanted...” He gasped as images from that time assaulted his brain. “And I overlooked someone who was right there in front of me.”

Fortuna nodded. “There’s hope for you yet, boy.” She pulled another card from the deck and placed it below the middle group, in the transverse position. “Your recent past: Judgement. Or in this case, lack thereof.”

Harry grimaced. The past two years of his life had been one mistake or misstep after another, and he didn’t really need Fortuna to tell him he had royally bollixed it up, but the way she was eyeing him and the cards, he knew she was just itching to tell him each and every seedy detail.

“Jumping to conclusions—or in your case, relationships—and making hasty decisions. Things will be changing for you and your work.”

“But I wanted to be an Auror! I have one more year before—”

“You will be made redundant by the end of the week,” she snapped forcefully. “Best look elsewhere.”

He wanted to scream in frustration at her evasiveness. “What am I supposed to do, then?”

She stared intently at him for a few moments. “Not yet.”

This time, he did shout. “What the hell are you on about? Will someone be upfront and honest with me, for once in my life?”

“Quiet, boy!” She leaned over as if she were about to smack him. “People _have_ been honest with you, yet you haven’t heard them until it is too late. Now you must take what you are given because you could not sit still long enough to listen.”

Harry let his head droop. “I know,” he said quietly. He inhaled deeply on a shuddering breath and sucked in a lungful of the potent smoke. It went straight to his cock and it filled once more. Luna’s image once more appeared in his mind’s eye, as he writhed in his seat. “Oh, God...”

Madame Fortuna continued, smiling to herself and pretending to pay no attention to the young wizard across from her. She selected another card from the deck and placed it above the middle grouping. “Your best outcome: The Ace of Wands.”

The image on the card was of a man in medieval clothing, a black cap covering most of his head. It was Nostradamus, holding a golden sceptre. 

“Positive new beginnings, a new relationship, optimism and hope.” 

He dearly hoped that new relationship included the muse running rampant in his fantasy.

“You may also be interested to learn that any card from the suite of Wands represents someone who is fair-haired and has blue eyes.”

Harry’s fevered brain conjured the blonde nymph kneeling before him, nuzzling his engorged prick right there under the table. “Luna!” 

“Your last card, Mister Potter,” Madame Fortuna purred. Harry didn’t look at her; his eyes were tightly closed and he was lost in the sensations coursing through him. “Your immediate future: The Lovers.”

There was definitely a solid feel of hands on Harry’s thighs, spreading them wide, but he still refused to open his eyes, afraid the dream would end. The hands made their way to the rivet on his jeans, unbuttoned it and lowered the zip. He was panting heavily now, unable to hear Madame Fortuna, gasping when cool fingers wrapped around his hardened shaft.

“Please,” he whimpered. He nearly shot off his seat when he felt soft lips kiss the tip, a tongue peeking out to delve into his weeping slit. 

“The Lovers represent a powerful, bonding relationship.”

“Yes, with Luna,” Harry babbled, almost incoherently. Heat enveloped his cock, making his back arch and his hips thrust. Gentle sucking ensued, and unbidden, he began to pump the mouth full of his length, his fingers gripping the seat of the chair as if his life depended on it.

“Spiritual twins, your yang to her yin, romance.”

Stroking fingers now joined the suction, and Harry was quickly losing any resolve to keep his eyes closed lest he ruin the vision his mind had created. When the grip tightened at the base of his cock, his eyes flew open to see the woman he had conjured, in the flesh, bobbing her head up and down his shaft.

“Luna,” he whispered and threaded his fingers through her white-blonde tresses. “I-I love—” His declaration was drowned in his scream of completion as his balls tightened and his shaft pulsed hot, milky seed down her throat.

“I take it you’ve found your chosen path?”

Panting, Harry looked up from where Luna was perched between his legs, come dribbling off the end of her chin, to Madame Fortuna. He blushed a thousand shades of red when he realised what he had just done. “God, I-I’m so sorry!”

The gypsy waved him off. “You were caught up in the moment.”

Harry wiped his face and glanced down... only to see no one there. Wait. That was real; it had to be. He darted his gaze to the woman across from him, who was gathering the cards from the table and placing them back in the deck. By that time, the smoke had dissipated, but he wondered if there was a lingering effect causing him to hallucinate. 

“Where’s Luna?”

Madame Fortuna paused. “Waiting in the other room, I suspect.” She narrowed her eyes. “Would you like me to call her in?”

Panic seized him, when he looked down again to his lap, thinking to tuck himself back into his pants... and found nothing but a wet stain blooming against the fabric, evidence that he had spent himself in his trousers. 

This was not happening!

Harry stood on shaking legs and moved to the exit, ignoring Madame Fortuna. He pushed the door open to see Luna sitting in the waiting room, flipping through a _Witch Weekly_ magazine.

She looked up and smiled widely. “Harry! You look like you’ve just had a surprise visit from Moaning Myrtle in the Prefect’s bathroom.”

He felt like he had. “Right.” Swallowing, he held out his hand and she took it without question. “Let’s grab some nosh, yeah?” he suggested. “I’ve got some things I need to talk to you about.”

Nodding, Luna followed Harry to the exit but stopped to look over her shoulder at Madame Fortuna, who was now standing before them with a smug look on her face. “Maybe next time I’ll come back for my reading?” With that, she winked and stepped out the door with Harry.

Madame Fortuna pulled off her red scarf and hoop earrings and set them to the side. She then whispered, “ _Finite Incantatem_ ,” and shuddered as she returned to her normal visage. The Glamour had been hard to maintain while Luna had been sucking Harry to oblivion, but it had been worth it to see the man and woman that she loved so much finally be on the same path together. 

Fingering the Queen of Cups tarot card, Ginny Weasley smiled to herself, knowing that, with Luna’s help, it was only a matter of time when Harry would visit again. 

And this time, they would find the right path... one that brought all three of them together.

**Author's Note:**

> I've left the ending ambiguous on purpose, as I don't normally play with this ship.


End file.
